The Washington critic., 1887-10-28
SAVED BY A KISS.

y
The words were engraved upon a
silver plate, but there was no coffin
under them. Mrs Purroy, an elderly
lady, visiting friends living on Clinton
avenue, Alameda, but whose home Is
in Brooklyn. N. Y, looked with an air
of mingled pride and reverence upon
the carving. for her name was once
Elma Griffin and the coffin was made
to hold her remains.
"On my nineteenth birthday" she
said, "my mother invited a number of
acquaintance to our house to celebrate
the day. We lived some distance out.
side Of Williamsburg, as 1t was then,
and the ground was little soft and
boggy. One of the party remembered
this when starting home with her
brother, and she laughingly congratu
lated me on being housed already and
having no occasion to brave the
swamp. was wild young girl in
those days, and | declared at once that
would 90 with them and return alone.
Everybody present tried to dissuade
me except the girls brother. We
started, and when we reached my
friends house was conscious that my
feet were quite wet, and that dis.
agreeable chill had crept over me, but
declined an invitation to go In, and
went away at once. OF course Rob
the brother, / mean-came with me,
and somehow l forgot the cold and
damp as walked home.
''l think we must have talked for a
long time as we stood on my uncles
doorstep, for suddenly Rob-my escort,
mean-said: 'Elma, your face Is very
pale. Have / kept you standing here
too lopg?' He talked to me for ten
minutes after that, and then wished
me good night and left me. l rang the
bell, and when my mother opened the
door / told her what / might have
known an hour sooner, If had given
II thought, that was really Ill. She
hurried me to bed Immediately, aud
when she came to call me the following
morning she looked very anxious. BY
noon l was delirious, but l could hear
the doctor tell my mother l had
typhoid fever, and that he could
not hold out much hope for my
recovery. / knew that my mother
was weeping, but was always n selfish
girl, and could only cry out: Robert!
Robert Where ia Robert, and they
told me, hardly thinking that l heard
them that Robert had been suddenly
called upon to start for California early
that morning and had not even heard of
my illness. He sent letter to me,
however, but did not see 1t until
many weeks later.
II grew rapidly worse and gradually
the knowledge of all outward things
passed from me. fancy that | had a
certain consciousness, but not of mat.
tiers around me. / was In another
state of being, In which the person
speaking-alway strangely speaking
was myself, and yet not myself. Then
came an utter blank, from which l
awoke, after nearly three weeks of
oblivion, to see my mother and the
doctor standing by my bedside. The
doctor said the crisis was past and ]
should probably recover, but did not
feel any interest In what he was talk
ing about.
lowed and the doctor, seeing | was
very week, regarded me seriously, aud
warned my mother that relapse
should be carefully guarded against.
used at that time, too, to fall into Gu
rious physical conditions that l sup
pose were transes, In which l knew
all that was going on around me, but
from which did not seem to care to
arouse myself by moving or speaking
These periods lasted longer and lon
ger, but they were not observed, and a;
they were rather pleasant than other.
wise said nothing about them.
Zone morning / awoke from what
seemed TO be natural sleep, and lay
with my eyes closed listening to sounds
that | could not at first interpret; but
slowly the knowledge came to me that
my mother was sobbing beside my bed.
l tried to ask her why she was griev.
ing, but | could not move or speak.
The trance was upon me. was sensi-
tive, however and knew that was
lying upon hard substance and not
upon the comfortable mattress of my
bed. / could feel, too, very little COW
eripg over me, and, despite my eyelids
being down, the gloomy darkness of
the room could be detected. "Where
In the world have they carried me to p
thought.
Presently / heard my mother s
voice, and | knew that she was speak
ing to my cousin Mary, who was stay
ing In the house with us.
Poor Elma, she said. Il was SC
sure that God would spare her to me.
She struggled through that dreadful
illness only to die quietly In her SLEEP
at last. 1t is very hard, Mary
81 have often wondered since that
did not really die of horror at that mo,
ment, as / realized like lightning
flash that they thought was dead and
had put me In my coffin. They were
going to bury me. | strove hard Ia
speak, but the sphinx was not more
dumb than /. / tried to stir, but the
rock of Gibraltar might have moved as
easily. Must my life be smothercd out
in a grave for want of little speech or
action nowY thought,
"'lt Is hard, indeed, dear aunt, re.
piled Mary, but His will be done You
must arouse yourself. The undertaken
will close the coffin in few minutes.
Do you think Robert-Mr. Purroy-
will be here Z"
80 hardly think so now answered
my mother. wearily. Something must
have happened to delay him, He was
10 have arrived at home yesterday, but
he did not come, and l postponed the
burial until to day. He had not heard
of her death. Poor fellow The news
will nearly kill him. There is one per
son In the world, think, who loved
poor Elma as dearly as did.
$50, Robert, Robert | cried, with